Technocyte: The Infection Begins
by G M Hubbard
Summary: A prequel to Dark Sector. First of my Technocyte series which details different cases of the virus attacking. This is my idea on how it all began and then follows a young boy into Moscow. With the infection. Rated M for gratuitous amounts of violence.


**01:45, Warehouse 23, New York City**

"_Just be quiet!_" whispered a shadowed figure. He was addressing the clumsy looking fellow who was blatantly looking around for something. "_Stay out of the light. If we're caught in here, then you are paying the price._"

The dopey one twisted around and his glasses caught the moonlight perfectly. He was young, with cheek-bones to die for and slicked back brown hair. He could have any woman he wanted if he tried to be a little more mature and act a slightly more intelligent. It wasn't that Freeman disliked the fellow. He was a laugh around the other guys and had a higher IQ than anyone else. He just tended to act slightly dumb sometimes.

He wished he still had his youthful charm. At the age of 56, he only had science to keep him busy. And happy. He sighed for the sixteenth time this night and rubbed his bag-ridden eyelids. A long night, it was to be. Oh yes, a long night.

"Wait, Freeman. I saw the dog right here, I swear it!" he moaned.

Freeman rolled his eyes. "_Like I said Darek, shut up. I'm sure we can find the dog without raising our voices and standing out in the light._" With a wave of his hand, he ushered over the clueless man into the darkness. "_Now stay quiet and keep behind me. Don't do anything unless I-_"

Awwwwrhhhh! A howl shattered the silence like it despised the quiet and begged for something to make a noise. The dog was definitely nearby and it was presumably in pain. The two of them ran towards the area they thought the sound had come from. After several hops and steps over mounds of trash and cardboard boxes, they came upon the wounded animal. It was a dog, male or female was questionable, but it's breath came out in nasty chops.

"We got it!" exclaimed Darek. He punched the air and bent to pick up the dog.

Freeman slammed his hand in front of his younger companion, retaining him from touching the creature. "It's wounded. Badly. Take care when you lift it up, okay? It needs to be brought back to the lab with us and healed."

Darek clopped his heels together and swung his hand up in salute, obviously a mimic of a US Marine. "Yes, sir!" he crouched down slowly and heaved the beast onto his shoulder. He trudged away through the filthy garbage. Freeman waited a small while before following his friend. A couple of steps after Darek, he couldn't help but smile.

In two weeks from now, the results for the success of the testing shall be through. A pay-rise and a holiday he had planned. It was the start of something big.

**10:28, Cyte Industries, New York City**

"Freeman! The results are here!" Darek's calls could be heard throughout the office floor and even through the closed door, Freeman could hear him clearly. "Where are you?"

Freeman sighed. "In the cage room."

It made him jump when the door was suddenly slammed open and the brown-haired man stormed into the room. A piece of paper was suddenly shoved straight into his face, so Freeman leaned his head back to adjust his sight to the lettering. Written in fine print was the following.

_The results have been confirmed. Technocyte shall be used and perfected for the Marine's warfare. The success was realised through your first subject, codenamed Bratva. According to our boss, you may kill any failures tested on the other dogs. Do this when everybody else has left the building. Dispose of the remains. Once this has been done, call the number on the reverse and we will send a squad to transport Bratva. Your pay shall be issued tomorrow if all goes well. Please don't displease us._

"You know what this is, Darek? Our two weeks of research and hard work have paid off." Freeman laughed out loud. He stood up and approached the large cage-tank. A 3-inch thick glass box, the inside laced with steel wiring, was designed to contain the most rabid of beasts. The glass was cracked in some places and the wire was snapped across the whole wall on one side.

Inside was what used to be a dog. Bratva. The only significant difference was the dog's wound had been fixed and a large metallic, spiked helmet had replaced it's head. It's jaws had extended to almost twice it's original size and it's teeth transformed into wicked-looking fangs lining the side of it's mouth. It almost resembled a dog with an metal alligator's head.

"Bratva!" he called. He knocked on the tank to get it's attention. The creature immediately reacted, swiftly alert on four paws. It had no obvious eyes, nose or ears, but it was assuringly intelligent enough to sense anything. "We've got someone to meet you boy! They'll be here when it's dark to take you away. So just be good."

The dog cocked it's head to one side in sadness. Behind Freeman, Darek couldn't help but feel sorry for the dog. Even the mutated ones kept in tiny cage-tanks behind this one. He had to do something, but not now.

"I'll see you later, Darek. Be here at 1100 hours, okay? Don't be late. And make sure you have your access card this time. I'm off to make love to my wife and eat a fine dinner." He laughed and trotted out the doorway, donning his coat and hat. "11 o'clock. Remember that!"

Darek was shuffling ideas around inside his head. The dogs. Must all be freed.

**23:00, Cyte Industries, New York City**

Freeman entered the cage room with a cheerful look painted on his face. He couldn't be happier. Money was what he wanted and that's what he got. Dogs dead and he'll be bathing in Mauritius in three days. He had a reason to be happy.

Upon stepping a couple of yards into the room, he noticed a man shrouded in darkness. "Darek? Is that you? Look, Chris. If there's a problem, I'm sure we can work something out." He raised his hand towards the shoulder of the figure with a worried expression overwriting his smile.

"There's nothing you can do!" Darek's face burst into the lamp's light, a crazy twinkle sparked in his eye. He was drooling heavily and when he twisted round, spittle hit Freeman in the face. "These dogs can't suffer like this. Nor can they die! I'm here to stop you and release the beautiful creatures they really are!"

Freeman raised his arms defensively, forgetting to wipe off the spit in his eyes. "Look Chris. This isn't how things are gonna work. We can talk. You want to talk?" He was growing uncertain about how things were going to go.

Before another word could be said, the back of Darek's fist crashed into the side of his head, sending him thundering down face-first onto a nearby desk. He shook his head and attempted to stand up straight. Halfway up, he was grabbed at the hem of his coat and slammed back down onto the desktop. Freeman lunged his elbow backwards, which caught Darek square in the stomach. His assaulter backed off clutching at his stomach.

He hauled himself up from the painful position that had been forced upon him and turned just in time to receive another blow from Darek. The young man's fist caught him on the chin and twisted his head to the right.

Barely in his vision, Freeman caught sight of a syringe catching the light in the attacker's left hand. But before he could raise his arms to guard himself, Darek was on top of him, plunging the needle into his spine and with the right hand injecting the fluid into him.

"Gah!" He buckled, hand desperately reaching behind himself to pull out the silver spike of pain. After a few reckless clutches of air, he finally grasped the handle of it and tore it out at an angle. "What have done to me?! Dammit! Aww, come on Chris, tell me!"

After climbing off the weakened man, a mad clown face was probably the best description for Darek's expression. "Don't call me that! It's Darek and nothing else. My parents are stupid people with their stupid religion and I hate what they've called me." He snarled crazily at Freeman, but a chuckle slowly crept out of his clenched teeth. "You'll soon know the effects of what I've done. You gave the dogs something they never wanted. So I returned the favour!"

"You're insane... And I'll never let you see these dogs out of this building. Never!" With that, Freeman lunged forward, flicked up a plastic cover over a button and clicked it without hesitation.

Inside the tiny cage-tanks behind the main one, all the twisted, unwanted dogs raised their noses in suspicion of the new scent. Suddenly, all of them sprang to a corner of their cages, obviously afraid of the invisible death coming towards them. Eventually, they each collapsed in distorted heaps on the ground. The air inside the boxes gradually stilled and the only sounds were the moaning of Freeman and the rasping breath of Darek. Their eyes met.

"Now look what you've done!" Darek roared, raising his clenched fists into the air. "But when you're dead, no one can stop me releasing Bratva. I don't care any more! Because, you're gonna have a nasty fall!"

Freeman attempted to stand, but was caught on the chest by Darek's two palms pushing him back. Stumbling out of control, he tumbled back into a low window which shattered under his weight. Freeman had nothing underneath him now, and it felt wonderful. Floating quickly downwards, windows fluttering through his line of vision.

But the thorn to this rose was that death consumed him far quicker than he had expected, cutting off his short ecstasy of weightlessness. Crashing on to the top of a trash disposal silenced any breath in the man.

Staring maniacally over the edge of the broken glass, Darek smiled at his triumphant victory. Now there was only the dog to be released. Turning round to face the cage-tank again, he found the dog growling at him heavily. He didn't fear Bratva, so he crossed over to it and lifted up the lock calmly. After typing in the five-digit code, the door swung open, hitting him backwards a few steps. This still didn't disturb him.

"Go boy! Freedom is down the stairs!"

These promises of a short run to a good life didn't deter the dog from staring at the crazed man intently from non-existent eyes. A humming growl echoed from in between the dogs razor-like jaws as the creature hopped down onto the ground from the open box. It lowered the front half of it's body and crouched low so it's nozzle scratched the ground. Darek could swear that was how dogs prepared to pounce.

He instinctively recalled how to hold back dogs. His arms immediately spanned out in front of his body, attempting to pose as a larger, superior animal to the dog. Quite obviously, the metal beast wasn't caring for such trivialities and lunged forward with a nasally bark.

"Oh hell..." Stunned, Darek couldn't help but accept the pitiful death he had brought upon himself. The elongated jaws ravaged at his neck, puncturing the jugular vein and tearing open his wind pipe. The fluids frothed up under his chin and a cloudy look swept over his face. The man was now a head attached to a body by a red tangle of meat.

Bratva dropped the now useless chunk of man and raced out the door and down the clean, white hallways. It's destination; the last place it remembered being before this. Warehouse 23.

But outside, down in an alleyway running alongside the main building, Freeman coughed some blood and air out of his lungs. He breathed in franticly, awake and scared. Eyes were cast open and his senses aware. He was still outside on the trash disposal. And he was alive. He hoisted his upper body up too fast, letting pain and blood wrack his sight. After wiping sweat from his brow, he thought at how he could still move.

He raised his right hand to touch his back. Instead of feeling cloth or warm flesh, his skin stroked what felt like an iron bar of sorts. It reminded Freeman of walking along a beach, picking up a smooth grey pebble and rolling it over in his hands. Nice to the touch, but solid enough to crack a skull.

He gasped in surprise. He had definitely been stabbed with a Technocyte sample and he had no clue at how to control it or what the effects are. Picking up some shattered mirror that someone had thrown out, he used it with another shard to see the disfigurement perched on his back. The grey had eaten the whole of his back, arching from the tip of his neck, to the top of his shoulders and all the way down the spinal area. Judging by the large dent in the metal case he was sitting on, the change in his skin had seemingly saved his life.

Praying thanks to the God he never would have guessed existed, he clambered off the oversized bin and almost tripped in his weak try at a step. Sighing out loud, Freeman wandered down the alley, only objective to find someone who can help him. And stop that dog from destroying the world.


End file.
